


A Dead Ringer

by Lady_lyanna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:46:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7884511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_lyanna/pseuds/Lady_lyanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma, a key witness in a criminal investigation against Alistair Gold seeks help from her estranged sister. When Ava Jones offers her life in return for freedom, Emma assumes her identity - seeing a way out from her destructive life. She soon realises that her sister’s marriage and life are not as perfect as she was lead to believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Safety and freedom.

It’s mid-afternoon when the Jitney pulls into the Hamptons, a cluster of people pilling out of the bus, some in groups and others alone. The look on their faces are matched, all yearning for one thing, escapism. Her dark brown riding boots hit the concrete floor, jeans stained from the take-out hot chocolate she’d bought hours before.  
A polished figure steps forward, honeyed smile on lacquered lips, “Emma,” the voice whispers, arms wrapping around her. No one cares to notice the two sisters hugging, Emma feeling almost safe in Ava’s arms. After Ingrid had died, Emma never thought she’d feel that again, the safety of family. Her entire world had darkened, drinks from the bottle flowing easier, bad relationships getting tougher.  
Letting out a relieved sigh, Emma rests her chin against her twin-sister’s shoulder, “I missed you,” she murmurs, pulling away to stand a few inches in-front of Ava. It was hard to forget the face of Ava, since it stared back at her everytime she glanced in cracked mirrors in decaying rooms. It had been long, too long, since she’d set eyes on her sister, the secrets and horrors between the two of them, tearing them apart.  
“You dyed your hair back blonde,” Emma notes, eyes falling over her twin’s matching locks. For many years, Ava had decided to separate herself from the ‘Swan’ look, and instead dyed her golden mane a dark shade of chocolate which was often pulled up into an elegant chignon.  
“I felt like a change,” she begins, patting Emma on the shoulder.“The driver is taking us to Manhattan tomorrow afternoon, so we’ve got some time to catch up before I introduce you to Killian.” As Ava moves to walk ahead, Emma takes her time to embrace the moment. For as long as she can remember, Ava is the only person that ever came back after leaving. They’d been dropped off on the side of the road, forgotten and unloved, just two little baby girls with no parents and only each other. Eventually, their adoptive mother had come into their life and given them a brighter future than the one they were originally destined for. Ingrid had been the mother that both girls had dreamt of, and it broke Emma to see the only mother she’d ever known fade with illness.  
Afterwards, Ava had made a life for herself as a socialite, married some rich guy and left Emma all alone. She’d always expected that Ava would leave her at some point, the elder twin of eleven minutes was stronger than she was, more open to things, including love. Meanwhile, Emma hung around bad buys, first Walsh and then a slimeball doctor. Chris was the exception, a six month relationship that finally had her trusting, and then he had to move away. Once again, Emma was alone, but she was used to it by then.  
She’d been serving drinks in a strip club when Neal Gold came into her life, suave and sexy, and although she didn’t realise it then, just as slimy as his father.  
“Where is Killian?” Emma questions, shifting the small duffle on her shoulder to the other, alleviating some of the aches which had begun to arise.  
“He’s in London visiting his brother Liam. He and his wife Elsa are moving over to the states.”  
When they arrive at the Hampton house, Emma sucks in a sharp breath. There is more space in one room, than she’s ever had in an entire apartment.  
Her eyes close and she remembers laugher, the faint smell of bleach, the warmth of a man’s breath on her ear. Revulsion washes over her as she saw the face of her darkest nightmare.  
“Hey, where’s your head at?” Ava asks, voice laced with concern.  
Over the years, Emma’s walls had built up and she no longer trusted anyone, not even her own sister. Telling Ava everything was too much, much more than she can ever handle.  
“Detective Humbert is going to be looking for me.”  
Her sister says nothing, simply guides Emma to the room she’ll be staying in for the night, “Get some rest,”  
The door is closed, and just liked that, Emma i alone once more. She doesn’t dare remove her red jacket, it feels like the only protection between herself and those who are desperate to get her. If Graham is searching for her, then Gold certainly will be.  
A stray glance at the clock which sits grandly in the corner, states that it’s just after 8 in the evening. Emma gazes at it for several minutes, transfixed, watching it tick-tock away. It was only when it nears 9 that she dares to put on the pyjamas that Ava lad left out for her.  
Her hands raised, watch glistening under the torch light, lip caught betwixt her teeth. Her heart thrummed erratically, mind placing the pieces together. Her heart ached with the betrayal, the only man she’d ever truly loved, had betrayed her. The prince of Las Vegas they called him, Neal Gold, every bit his father's protege it would seem. Emma had always looked over at the elder Gold’s wife with pity, she thought that it would be a terrible pity to stick by a man so cruel, when you have so much good.  
When Detective Humbert had come forward with an offer, freedom in return for the dirt on Alistair Gold, of which she knew plenty. Gold was a snake, blackmailing pregnant women and shooting men in the leg until they walked around crippled. Watching him torture August had been the final straw, the man was her friend and she could let it endure, she’d told Neal that they couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. She thought Neal had a heart.  
When the next victim was wheeled in Keith Nottingham, and soon after the room was bleached, removing any trace of the man, whilst Neal pulled the hair away from neck, exposing her bare shoulder, whilst he whispered against the crook of her neck that they had one last job to do.  
The moment had repulsed her, already sickened by the sight before her as Neal’s hands roamed. They’d slept together that night, him routinely rutting above her whilst she lay there, unamazed. She hadn’t voiced her boredom, he at least made sure she came every time. But she may as well have slotted it in with her routine appointment with the doctor, it was so systematic.  
With the memories permeating her mind, she finds a need to escape as she opens the french doors in the bedroom which lead out onto the beach, feet sinking in the sand the moment she steps out, happily embracing the breeze as it tugs enthusiastically at the pyjamas she wears, hair whipping slightly around her.  
Her feet drag across the sandy terrain, arms lifting to wrap around herself, as she stares out at the sea, watching the way it laps hungrily at the sand. The twilight sky has not yet fallen into complete darkness, and she can make out the silhouettes of a family clustered around a small fire, a perfect quartet of wealth and pristine, sitting on persian blankets.  
“Couldn’t sleep?” a voice questions, breaking Emma away from her trace. Reluctantly, she tears her gaze away from the family to look at her sister.  
There is something in strange in the way her sister looks, as though she too is carrying demons, that cause Emma to feel unsettled. “Is everything okay?”  
Ava gives response that anyone would’ve believed, but Emma knows better.  
“You’re lying,” she argues, arms crossing. Of course, Emma is in no position to judge, but she’s desperate to mend the fractured pieces between them.  
“Why aren’t you with Killian in London?” Emma queries suddenly, worrying that it’s due to her.  
“I had some things to take care of here. Not only to see you, but other things.”  
They sit in the sand, Ava retrieving from behind her a bottle of wine, “I saw you wandering down here,” she admits, pressing her head against Emma’s shoulder. “I do forgive you for everything that happened with Sean and Ashley. I brought it on myself and you were just doing the right thing.”  
Then, as though the moment had not happened, Ava sits up straight and pours out two glasses of wine whilst Emma glances back at the water. There is something so calming about it that she’d never realised before.  
Like a sheet of black silk draped over the skies, darkness has fallen around her. The first thing she notices, quite alarmingly, is that she was completely alone.  
Beside her, tucked beneath a few grains of sand, are the remains of a stark white letter, with her name swirled on the front. She flings her head out, vocalising her worries in one name, “Ava!”. No response comes, just the sound of waves cooly crashing against the shoreline.s  
Nervously, she’d plucks up the letter and traced her fingers over the swirling penmanship - something she’s never mastered in her less lavish settings.  
Her first and only thought remains on Ava. Where has she gone?  
Tucked inside the envelop lies a small card, with words ‘It’s time for a fresh start, for both of us. You need safety and I need freedom’ etched in ink onto the paper - which is joined by two rings, Ava’s I.D and the necklace of a swan.  
Alarmed, head whipping from side to side out towards the sea and the long stretch of water, Emma calls out once more “Ava!”  
With her head in clutches of her hands, Emma sits for hours on the beach, stationary, waiting for something, anything to tell her what to do.  
As the sun creeps up, her tired eyes fill with tears, there’s no one for her. Ava’s note may have been vague, but the items which joined it are not, she wants Emma to take her place. It’s wrong, terribly wrong and yet the fear of the Gold family made her take notice of it all. Can she do it? Can she be Ava?  
“What am I thinking? This is madness,” she mutters to herself, attention caught by a passing jogger - a male in his early twenties, muscles rippling with every movement, as he cast a wink towards her, “Morning Mrs Jones.” Her brow quirks, does Ava know him?  
Shaking her head, Emma stands up and hurries over to the house, blonde hair swishing. He thought she was Ava, so will everyone else.  
The preparation to be Ava Jones begins with a shower, dousing herself in the luxurious products that her sister had lying about. Then, after she’s infused coffee into her morning, she styles her hair into a simple ponytail and does her make-up to the Ava standard, finishing with a nude peach to the lips. The clothes are another thing, just a touch too big with a flourish of elegance and luxury that she’d never known. In the end, Emma pulls on a pair of designer jeans, with an embroidered white top and then a blazer, feet slipping into dark grey suede boots.  
Emma has learned from looking at Ava that accessories were the key to it all, so she adds bangle to her wrist and a small pendant necklace. It’s everyday casual for Ava, and more money than Emma had ever worn. Despite dating Neal, who is certainly affluent, he never treated her to gifts or suggested she wear nicer things, she still worked as a bail bondsmen whilst he rose in both wealth and popularity with the ladies.  
Lastly, Emma slips on the two rings, one a beautiful diamond and the other simpler, she imagines to match Killian’s own.  
She has no idea what to expect with her arrival in Manhattan, people who’ve known Ava for four years, she will regard as a stranger. Her finger flicks through Ava’s phone, which she’d found in the master bedroom, the password being the year they were adopted by Ingrid. The pictures allow her to imagine part of Ava’s life, miniscule as it may be.  
She sees a picture of Ava and Killian, then the arm of a small child. It’s only when Emma uncrops the picture that she notices the young girl, likely about 12 years old. It’s strange to her that Ava would crop out the young girl.  
The journey isn’t too long, and soon enough the car door is being opened and she’s greeted by the sight of a doorman. “Good evening, Mrs Jones.”  
Emma nods her head, returning with a soft, “Good Evening.” Her polished nails press the button in the elevator to the penthouse suite, imagining it’s the only place plausible for her to go. She steps inside nervously  
The instant the elevator doors ding open, Emma is met by the sight of her husband. He turns, and she swears she’s never seen such beautiful eyes before. She loathes the way she feels when her sight falls on him, breath caught in her throat, desire, lust and happiness. It’s not hers, it’s not real, but she’d happily have him. How could Ava leave this life? How could Ava leave a happy ending, a family in search of what she called freedom?  
Emma walks forward to place a kiss on his lips, a soft sigh leaving her, presuming that Ava would’ve done the same. Although there’s no reluctance in her to kiss him.  
The moment she pulls away, his face shows the annoyance she’d not earlier recognised.  
“You’re late, we’ve got the charity gala in an hour for the at risk and orphaned children of New York,” Killian announced, checking his watch several times. Emma went to open her mouth, as his hand rose to stop her words from falling. She’s shocked, what is going on?  
“Not now, Ava. I’m jet lagged and have no time for your silly little games. Go put on the dress I paid for.” Seething, Emma stomps through the house, eventually finding the dressing room and sits down, was that how Killian spoke to her sister? Her fingers curl around the cushion of the padded chair, annoyance radiating from her. She glances up at the black gown with distaste, she was not wearing that on principle. He wanted to talk to her like that, then she was going to wear something else.  
Walking over to where a rack of long gowns rested, Emma pulled out one of ice blue and settled it against her skin, it would work perfectly.  
“Pig headed asshole,” she mutters to herself. Hot pig headed asshole. changing her lingerie from the plethora found in a large drawer in the dressing room, which will suit the dress far better than the basic set she’s wearing. The dress is slipped on next and she’s amazed by how right it feels on her skin, the pale blue almost iridescent against her complexion. She pulls her hair from the ponytail and twists the curly strands into an elegant bun on back on her head, letting some pieces fall loosely. As Emma touches up her make-up, she realises that Ava likely has someone come around to do her hair and makeup, but she can’t be sure.  
Killian comes in and only appears to be more annoyed, “I told you I was too tired to play games. Doesn’t it ever get tiring for you? The last time you wore that dress, we were happy and now were not. Thank you ruining another memory.”  
She catches his sadness, despite his reluctance to let her see it. It’s clear that the marriage between Ava and Killian is not as perfect as she’d been led to believe. There’s a pang of something unrecognisable upon seeing his sadness, as though she feel compelled to be his saviour, to relieve the pain.  
“One more glass and you’ll be 5 parts rum, one part human,” Emma mutters later on that evening, causing Killian to spin around in his expensive shoes. His stormy eyes look deep into her own, a smirk lifting onto his rum tainted lips, “I don’t know where you’ve got this new found sarcasm from, but cut it out.”  
Emma doesn’t understand Killian. When they first arrived at the gala, it was as though he’d had a personality switch, lovingly holding her hand and kissing her cheek, his arm caught around her waist and he whispered how beautiful she was. Even muttered about how happy he was that she’d dyed her hair blonde again. And then, nothing, the gala continued and he stuck to the bar, and she smiled at others feeling alone in a crowded room. No one approached her, which she found peculiar. That was when she’d walked over to find him with a slight sway in his step.  
“Come on love, you used to love our rum filled nights,” his words are a mix of flirtation and bitterness, and Emma bites down her words. She can’t claim to know anything about Killian, what she’s supposed to like and not like. She’s not Ava, and this is not easy.  
The next thing she knows he’s closer, a soft breath against the shell of her ear, arm wrapped around her waist. “I’ve never been enough for you.” What surprises her is the physical reaction she has to his breath against her ear, it’s wrong and she can’t help but enjoy it. Emma for the first time since meeting him, although it was only a couple of hours ago, how attractive he is. She glances up at him, heart pounding, it’s not pity she feels but desire.  
“That’s not true,” she responds, Ava must’ve loved him.  
Killian looks at her sadly, and shakes his head, “When was the last time you said the words?”  
“Killi, I…” His lips are on hers, hands on her waist drawing her in. She doesn’t want to stop, but she knows that she should.


	2. Little belief

The remnants of last night remain on her tongue, her head pounds relentlessly, as though someone has taken a chainsaw to it, and yet the only thing Emma can take notice of, is the man wrapped around her, head nestled against her ribs, whilst their legs are interlocked strangely, as though they'd moved that the way in their sleep. The vulnerability of being naked, is outweighed by the guilt which surges through her. He's not her husband, he's her sister's husband.

She's not that person, she's never been that person. But what had she been expecting? What was Ava expecting? If her sister wanted her to act in her place, surely she'd act as a normal wife would. Then again, the marriage of the Jones' seems far from normal.

Emma's removing herself from the bed, trying hard not to wake up Killian as she replaces her body with a pillow and hopes it will pacify the jet lagged man.

Pulling on a mint green robe to hide her nudity, Emma stumbles out of the bedroom and into the blinding light of the corridors which are well lit from the large windows which decorate the penthouse. Her first thought is painkillers and then coffee. The home is a maze to her, she knows where nothing is and doesn't think taking a grand tour at this particular moment is the right thing to do.

Her feet stop in their tracks when she notices two brunettes, one much older than the other. The latter, is the same girl that had been cropped out of the picture of Ava and Killian, but she sees his eyes in the young girl and knows that it must be his daughter.

Emma is aware of how little her robe covers, and hugs it more tightly to her body as she offers a short, polite smile.

"This is a late morning for you, Ava. I was told you'd be at your morning yoga session, I was hoping I'd miss seeing you all together," the woman's words are hot on the tongue, and the young girl looks uncomfortable. "Just dropping Lydia off. Since Killian is unable to greet his own daughter, do tell him that the next time he goes away, he should pass her off to someone else." Emma can't hide the frown which lifts onto her face, and the woman almost seems surprised by it. "Ava, don't look so shocked! Anyone would think you cared about the little brat, and we all know you don't."

Lydia stands in the corner, clearly disappointed that her father isn't here to witness this. She must prefer Killian, which makes Emma wonder why he left her with this woman in the first place if she's such a heartless mother. The brunette leaves, heels click-claking rhythmically against the floor with each step.

"Take off your jacket, Kid. You're staying aren't you?" Her voice is light hearted, warm even, but the girl looks startled by the words which makes her wonder how Ava treated her. Letting out a sigh, Emma walks over to kneel in front of her, brushing dark locks behind the young girl's ear.

"Do you want a hot chocolate, Lyd?" She questions softly, seeing a lost little girl in aquatic eyes. "I'll even put whipped cream and cinnamon on the top," she offers, nudging the girl's arm slightly.

"You'd do that for me?" There's shock in the young girl's voice, and Emma nods reassuringly. It's clear that there was little to no relationship between Ava and Lydia, and that was something which Emma needed to fix. Through all of the bravado, Killian was a broken man and his daughter was no better off.

"Have you had breakfast? Most of my attempts at cooking have all been bigger disasters than the death star 2.0. That being said, I can make blueberry pancakes."

Kids are resilient and there's something in the way Lydia immediately jumps up into one of the high stools, smile on her face, that has her heart warming. That little girl just wants a mother to love her.

Double knotting the waist tie on her robe, to make sure she has no unfortunate slips that will scar the child, Emma begins scouring the kitchen for ingredients to a surprising success. Someone in the Jones household clearly liked to cook, and she had a suspicion that it might be Killian.

The man once again falls to the forefront of her mind, as she's reminded of her messy situation. She knew that she was supposed to be playing her part in Ava's plan, and she was grateful for the chance to start over, but her's comes with many challenges and she suspects that Ava is lying somewhere on a beach drinking cocktails in the sun. Meanwhile, she's feeling hot under the collar playing fake wife to a man who makes her pulse race, whilst juggling with her own sense of judgement.

She swallows her painkillers and begins on the hot drinks first, delivering a steaming cup of coffee for herself and hot cocoa topped with cream and cinnamon for Lydia.

The radio plays in the background whilst she begins to whip up the batter for the pancakes, tossing in a few blueberries at the end. The young girl is humming along, occasionally sipping on her cocoa, "Why do you want to talk to me today?" she suddenly asks, her girlishness meaning a lack of filter which comes with age.

Emma glances up from the batter, to see the confusion on Lydia's face, "I remembered what it was like to be a little girl and how lonely I felt. I realised that I haven't been treating you fairly." The girl nods and goes back to drinking her hot cocoa, "I've got an art project due next week. I um need a little help with it. Daddy won't let me use the glue gun."

The little girl is offering her an olive branch and Emma would be foolish not to take it, "If you want me to help you, I will."

She's grabbing the syrup when Killian walks into the kitchen, pressing a kiss to his daughter's head as she excitedly wraps her arms around him. It's endearing and she admires that side of Killian.

"I never expected to see you in the kitchen. Especially after you burnt yourself after taking one cooking lesson, but that scar faded wonderfully," he says, pointing to her hand. Emma smiles at him to mask her awkwardness, the tension in the room has climbed and she's passing Lydia's the syrup just for something to do.

The pancakes she'd been looking forward to eating no longer seem appealing, and she's about to leave the room when Killian is kissing her cheek, breath next to her ear.

"You got what you wanted last night and now you don't even say good morning. You were just playing a game, like always," his words are cold and quiet, and he's turning his back to her to grab himself a coffee. She stands there for a moment, before giving Lydia a small smile.

"I'm going to take a shower."

The moment the water hits her, she wants to cry. It's so frustrating. She doesn't want to be here anymore, she wants to run away, like she's always done. Killian and Lydia will be alright with just each other, and she can run away, they'll be happier without her. Maybe he can meet someone who'll be right for the both of them.

She can't stay here, it's too much. She's drowning already and it's barely been twenty four hours. Emma's never been a player of games, she doesn't know how. She's just trying to do the right thing, although her judgement is twisted with her identity swap. But she's still Emma Swan, and the fear of everything crumbling is too much. She doesn't want to be the have the last straw to break the camel's back. Everything she touches turns to ash, and she can't do that to the two of them.

She's spun around, a watery version of Killian appearing in the shower with her. His arms rest against the wall on either side of head, whilst she backs up, pressing herself against it as she keeps her gaze away from him. "Whatever game you're playing, don't involve Lydia. She told me about you helping her this morning, making her breakfast and saying you suddenly care. I know you prefer her not being around, constantly suggesting boarding schoo. She'd forgive you in an instant for brushing her off all the time, because at least then she might get a mother. We both know that Milah doesn't give a fuck about her. But don't promise her something, just so you can break it."

Emma's eyes fill with tears, not that he can see them through the pouring shower, "You were right last night. I am tired of the games."

He doesn't believe her, she knows it. There's no relief in his eyes, they stay hard as he steps out of the shower once more and likely goes to take one in the guest bedroom. Meanwhile, she closes her eyes and remembers their night.

Her back is pressed into the mattress, a thousand curse words dying on her lips as she lets out a solitary moan. Fingers curl into her own, his beard catching against her thighs as he devours her, mouth lapping at her pussy, His tongue flits over her clit, as her back arches off the bed, blonde hair knocked from its elegant bun. His free hand guides two fingers inside of her, and she's trembling beneath his touch. He's coaxing her orgasm, caressing her body until the heat climbs, and she lets go. He's devouring her juices as she falls down from her high and she swears she's never came so hard before.

His mouth climbs back her body, ghosting of her the hard buds of her nipples, to her collarbone. Their lips meet once more, and her hands are pushing down his boxers, begging for more. She needs him, her body is desperate to be consumed by him. His cock springs from his boxers, when she pushes them down far enough. She disconnects their lips to glance down as she reaches for his manhood, taking him in her hand as she strokes him lightly, caressing the tip as he breathes heavily into her collarbone.

Then, he's pulling her hand away and pressing himself into her, mouth once again pressed to her own as he continues to guide himself to the hilt.

Emma's legs instinctively wrap around him, arms clutched to his body, guiding his movements as he begins to rock inside of her, angling himself to elict pleasure from every thrust. "Killian," she moans against his lips, legs locking tighter around his hips as she urges him to go faster.

Soon enough he's picking up the pace, their breathy moans mixing with the sound of slapping skin as he slams into her with a quicker pace. She's engulfed in him as he fucks her hard into the mattress, every movement bringing her closer and closer to the edge.

He's mumbling words under his breath, and she's clinging to him as her body threatens to fall over the edge. Her eyes are caught by his, and although her gaze is bleary, she can't look away. His fingers grow tighter around until she's moaning, letting go as her pussy clenches around him, milking his own orgasm. They fall together, careless thrusting as they ride out their pleasure, his name on her lips.

She's stood in the shower with a dry mouth, head resting against the tiles as the water runs down her back. She can't remember ever feeling so good during sex, her previous experiences had always been okay but nothing to scream about. Killian was another story.

Quickly, Emma washes her hair and body before stepping out of the shower, half ashamed at herself for reliving the passion between herself and Killian.

When she enters the bedroom, body wrapped only in a towel, Killian is sat on the end with his head caught in his hands, "What's wrong?" she questions, brow furrowing with concern. He looks up sharply at her and lets out an annoyed sigh, "You don't actually believe that I think you bloody care, right?"

Frustrated, Emma stomps over to him and lifts up his chin with her index finger, "I do care," she responds with urgency, eyes bearing into his own. Don't crumble on me. Survive.

"You're playing with my head, Ava," he admits, moving her finger out of the way as he moves to stand. "You've shown me more emotion in the last 24 hours than the last year. What's changed? I can't chase after you forever."

"I know."


	3. Run Run Run

Chapter III.

They don't speak for three days, they don't even share the same bed. She curls up on what she presumes to be Ava's side, whilst he takes one of the guest bedrooms. In the morning, Killian sneaks into the closet to get dressed when she's taking a shower, and by the time she's out, he's left for work. It's a real martial argument which has been sprung upon her, and before her identity switch, Emma never even considered the prospect. Neal was closest, closer than any other man, and he broke her heart.

A part of Emma wonders why she's continuing the charade. After all, it's not her marriage which is in the shit, it's her sister's. But when she does catch a glimpse of both Killian and Lydia, she feels a great deal of pity for the pair of them. The guilt of their shared night remains at the forefront of her mind, as though she cannot shake dirt from her skin.

One thing which came as a surprise to Emma was how planned every aspect of Ava's life had become, from the morning yoga to the lunch dates with her best friend and therapist sessions every Thursday at 2pm. She'd skimmed through the diary pages, not at all surprised when her name was absent from Friday through to Saturday's plans. There was no part of her sister's life which included Emma, she was a shadow, a forgotten past.

She catches a sight of Killian, he's pulling off his shirt and she's ducking her head out of the closet which a steely expression on her face. What had started out as a conversation had led to her first proper argument with Killian, she'd gotten a bee in her bonnet by the things he said to her, because that's not who she was, not who she is. But she can't say that, she can't say anything.

"Ava, my teacher really liked my art project!" Lydia announces excitedly, causing Emma to smile widely at the young girl. Where there's a divide between herself and Killian, she's found a rapport with the younger Jones, which Emma can only be too glad of.

"I'm really glad to hear that, Kid," she responds genuinely, remembering the countless hours they'd spent on the project, paper macheing an ocean, designing the grandest ship gilt in gold, that Lydia had called The Jolly Roger. She admires the subtle irony of it. The children had been instructed to design a piece to reflect their lives in another world at time.

Ava had chosen to be the daughter of Captain Hook, swashbuckling pirate and known sailor of the Jolly Roger. Her father however is CEO to a large conglomerate company whose main source of income comes from ships.

The phone rings, and Emma is quick to pick it up, "Ava, come to the suite." The voice is one she hasn't heard before, and Emma is aware that she has yet to meet any of her sister's friends. She doesn't know what kind of relationship Ava has with any of them, although she's learnt over the past few days that relationships on the Upper East Side can be extremely fake.

"Oh, I…" Emma begins, unsure of how to approach the situation.

"It's around the corner, pull yourself away from Captain Guyliner and come see the renovations!" Emma recalled seeing something in the red diary about meeting someone called Regina, the interior designer, with tiny devil horn ears around the name. She thought that very mature of her sister. "Please, I need to talk to you," the voice is softer, although there's still a certain level of command to the tone. Emma imagines she's quite a strong woman.

"Fine," she responds, and the voice is gone.

Emma blows a kiss towards Lydia, and then second guesses herself. Ava would have done that to her fake friends, but when would she have done it? Emma can't recall ever blowing a kiss to anyone. "I'll be back in an hour, Kid. Make sure you remind your dad about that school trip." She finds it strange how easily she fits into the role of the mother, where she finds it difficult to talk to Killian at all.

Emma stands on the sidewalk, wishing she'd pulled on one of Ava's many coats. The end of Summer brings a chill to the air, and she finds herself longing for her red leather jacket.

Still very much a stranger in her sister's life, it's blind that she travels down dark paths, each winding and crossing. If she stops, halts even for a second, she's lost.

Across the road stands a man, tall and handsome, his eyes bear into her and she feels the penetration of his gaze from the metres that separated them. She doesn't know the man, but he appears to know her. There's something about him, something sinister. It's a discomfort, an unsettlement to her already fictitious life. She turns to see a copper haired girl rushing forward, "Hi Ava, Regina sent me to come and get you, said you were taking too long. I love your top, aren't you cold? Sorry If I'm talking too loudly, I'm just really excited about Elsa coming back!" Emma nods at the girl, feeling slightly overwhelmed by the sudden rush of positivity and exuberance which comes from the girl. She feels like the closest likeness to the girl that she has is Lydia, a childlike innocence that she finds endearing. What Emma would've given to be that untouched by life.

Emma follows, silently grateful for the assistance. Regina's inability to be kept waiting saves her from wandering around with little knowledge of where this suite is.

When she recalls something that her sister had said to her, she suddenly finds something to speak about, "Killian is happy that they're coming back too. I can't even recall how long Elsa and Liam have been in London," Emma muses, fishing for information from the talkative girl.

"It's been far too long if you ask me! It was originally supposed to be 2 months, not 3 years! I'm so excited to see Aleksander, although I do think Killian always seems a bit jealous. We all know he'd like to have a little boy as well as Lyd, but he's such a great dad. I think the only time him and Milah were ever in love was when she was pregnant...vile woman." The girl continues to prattle on, whilst Emma swallows hard. She'd never heard Ava mention children, in fact her twin appeared partially abhorrent of the idea. The more she thought of it, the more she wondered how exactly Ava and Killian had fallen in love, they were practically chalk and cheese.

She herself had always liked them well enough, but her life was one car crash after another, and children never seemed appropriate.

"You head up, Regina wants me to go and shout at one of the suppliers for their incompetence. Which means I'll politely ask them to exchange the scuffed chaise lounge for a new one." The girl sprints off in a vision of rich purples, and Emma is left staring up at an even more opulent building that the one she currently occupies. Of course, she finds herself completely entranced by the penthouse suite and can't imagine anything more beautiful.

She's stepping over plastic sheeting, and around her several work men are knocking things down whilst a petite brunette in stiletto heels orders them around.

The two story penthouse holds more grandeur than she's ever seen, and the view is impeccable, "Wow," she whispers, not noticing the hovering brunette.

"I'm glad you like it. Killian certainly had an eye for a good view, even if it hasn't been that long since I renovated your current residence. Not that I mind, you know I love a good project."

A kiss is placed on either side of her cheek, and Emma smiles softly at the woman. "It's good to see you, Regina." She doesn't know how deep their relationship goes, whether they're friends or Ava simply admires the woman's sense of interior style.

"Enough of that, I need an espresso and a serious talk. These work men are two seconds from having their drills shoved up their pathetic asses, my mood is that sour," Regina motions for her to follow over what Emma can assume to be a temporary office whilst she oversees the decoration and reconstruction of the Jones residence.

"What's wrong," Emma asks, finding concern in her voice. She hopes they're friends.

"Daniel's having an affair," she announces bluntly, admiring the scarlet polish of her nails with intensity. "He walks around far too happy and we haven't had sex since Henry was born."

Her brows shoot up, they must be friends.

"I've been going through who it might be, Henry's nanny, Anna, the mothers from the park, my best friend," Regina stops and gives her a pointed look, and Emma finds herself frozen. "Don't worry, I crossed you off first. I think it might be Katherine."

"Regina, you can't just go around accusing people! He might not even be having an affair, maybe he's just happy."

"He walks around smelling of Coco Mademoiselle, and we know that I'm a J'ador woman." Emma is stumped, she doesn't know how to comfort the brunette. She doesn't know what Regina likes, what their boundaries are. Emma doesn't know how to comfort others easily.

"I'm filing for divorce. I'm not letting him make a fool out of me, and I'm tired of having to self-serve my orgasms. Five years without sex and he thinks it's okay to have an affair? No, just tell me you don't want to be with me! I know I'm hard to love."

She's beyond the hard exterior, a queenlike grace with a voice as stern as steel, but there's the woman who wants to be cherished.

"You deserve to be happy," Emma reassures.

"I know."

Later that night, she seeks out Killian, he's lying in the guest bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. If she's going to live the rest of her life as Ava, she can't continue to go on avoiding him. She knows that she may never be able to be Emma again, with Gold, Neal and Detective Humbert all out for her blood. With Ava as good as gone, Emma has no doubt that she'll never see her sister again.

"Talk to me," she whispers in the darkness, settling on the edge of the bed.

"This may come as a shock to you, Ava. But some of us have to get up early for work," Killian's response is spat out, absent of any warmth. She doubts he loves Ava, she doubts Ava loves him, and she certainly doesn't love him. She can't, he's not hers and her heart's been too easily broken in the past by careless hands.

"Killian, it's 8pm. I know you've been avoiding me."

"What do you expect? You're a master manipulator and you're just playing another game. I don't believe for a second that this is some fairytale ending in which you still love me the way you once did."

"I don't believe in fairytales. Don't belittle me, just to make yourself feel better. My life has been shit, really shit, and yes maybe I have been a shit wife lately. But I'm trying, you're not even trying! Any day now I'm expecting to be issued with divorce papers because that's where I feel we're headed." Emma can feel it in the waters, and Regina's discussion of divorce had pushed it to the forefront of her mind. She was scared to lose the stability, which she'd selfishly become attached to. The place doesn't feel like home, and all the time she has the urge to run, but the broken people around her cry out to be rescued and she desires to be their savior. Maybe she can help them, even if she can't help herself.

He sits up, his face centimeters from her own, nothing but the crack of light beneath the door providing a slight luminosity, and she's there glancing at him sadly. "It's strange. We've been married for a few years, and yet I feel like I'm just meeting you. You're more real, even if your walls are higher. I want to believe in this new you, I prefer her more. Don't leave me, Swan."

"Be patient," she whispers, he leans forward, almost hesitant to press his lips to hers and Emma feels an internal war build inside of her. She shouldn't, it's wrong. But she cannot deny the attraction she feels towards him, he's charming when he's not shouting at her. She wants to know more of him, wants to trust him. It's the want which surprises her. Their lips connect, she tells herself it's a one time thing, she won't let it happen again.

They kiss slowly at first, her hands rest on the side of his face whilst his own wrap around her back, holding her close. Desperation, need, it pushes the intensity of the kiss.

"Ava, there's someone on the phone for you," a voice shouts, and Emma realises that the young girl is shouting for her. Begrudgingly, she pulls herself away from Killian, feeling his arms slump against her back and then retract. "And the doorman called to say there's someone down in the lobby wanting to speak to you."

"I'll go and see who it is," Killian announces, walking behind her as she moves to take the phone out of Lydia's had, whispering a thank you to the young girl.

"Ava Jones speaking," she answers, waiting for the voice on the end of the phone to come through.

"Mrs Jones, I was concerned when you didn't show up for your appointment today. I thought you would have liked to hear your test results."

"Test results?" Emma questions, immediately worried for Ava.

"Your results came back positive." Her mind is racing with worry, fingers shaking. Is that why Ava left? Because she's ill. "Congratulations Mrs Jones, you're pregnant."

"Pregnant," she repeats, the words falling from her mouth like a heavy weight. Shit. Her head turns towards her present company. Double shit. Emma doesn't know how she's supposed to fake that one. Her mind is reeling whilst Lydia is excitedly hugging her, and she suddenly feels like she's falling. The moment is dizzying, and Emma feels a desire to sit down.

Her ears sound watery, and she barely recalls Lydia telling her to sit down.

The grasp around her neck feels to tight, she needs to run. She's going to run.

"Who was that?" Emma questions with uneasy breaths, brows knitted together in concern when he walks in with a furious look on his face. The fragile peace between them appears to be trembling with every step she takes towards him. She's going to leave him, she's going to break her promise and run away. "You're acting strange."

"Detective Humbert, he claims to be looking for Emma Swan. I think of all your secrets, love, this one may be the cherry on-top of the cake. Job bloody well done, Ava! Once again you've managed to throw us right back into the bloody storm. Why didn't you tell me that you have a sister?"

She can't hide her shock, it paints a picture on her face as she stares at him wide-eyed. But the only thing she can actually say is, "Detective Humbert was here?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: If anyones curious about Olivia, I imagine her face claim as Mackenzie Foy.
> 
> I hope that you enjoyed the latest chapter of A Dead Ringer, and that you continue to review, favourite and follow it. I'll see you in a few days with another update.


	4. The price

Killian leaves without another word, disgust written on every feature of his face as he pulls Lydia out of the room, who looks just as betrayed.

Emma doesn't care about any of her belongings, they aren't her own. She's survived on far less than what's on her back now. Her feet are carrying out the penthouse, and she's determined to never step foot in it ever again. She cannot possibly stay, tears are caught in her throat as her hand searches for her phone to ring a friend, the only true friend she's ever had.

"August, I've made such a huge mistake," she admits, the device shaking in her hand as the elevator travels down to the bottom floor. She's doesn't acknowledge the doorman as she brushes past him as fast as her boots will carry her.

The cold manhattan night air hits her face, and she's relieved to feel it. Emma had deluded herself into thinking that she could somehow live Ava's life, and that despite a few blips, she would do it easily. Time would make it easier.

"Emma, what are you talking about? I've been so worried." The voice is frantic down the phone, and she imagines his brow crunching with concern. He's the closest to a brother that she's ever had.

"I saw a way out and I took it. Ava, she gave me her life, but it's too much. I'm only going to ruin them more, I ruin everything."

She hears him sigh, "Emma, you don't ruin everything. Bad things have happened to you in your life, but I do believe that you deserve happiness."

The tears stream down her face, and she yearns for Ingrid, the only mother she's ever had. Ingrid had been just as lost as the twins, and together they'd mended one another. Emma was certain that if she had not had both Ingrid and Ava, she would have been even harder with the world.

"I don't want to be alone," Emma cries, wrapping her arms around her chest.

"Then do something about it! Ava is doing this for her own reasons, she's always been selfish, so take her life and don't look back. I like the sound of New York, I can finish my book in Manhattan. You don't have to do this alone, Em."

"You think I should stay?" she questions, letting out a deep breath.

"I think it's time you stopped running away. This life may have been Ava's, but it's yours now. You haven't taken it, she's given it."

"Okay," she breathes, staring back up at the building. The moment she hangs up, her body is being pulled down a side street, back pressed into the brickwork whilst a breath is hot on her neck. "Hello beautiful," his lips are pressed to hers, it's urgent and she's pushing against him.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asks sharply, when she shoves him off her.

His simply smiles at her, "You must be Emma." It catches her completely off guard, and Emma finds herself gawking at him. "You two really do look the same, I wanted to see if you kiss the same too. "

Emma's has had entirely too much information for one night, and she isn't sure if she needs coffee or vodka, "Tell me, is Regina filing for divorce yet? I do wish she'd hurry up. Her mouth drops open once more, and she can't help the fist which goes flying at him.

"The sooner Regina files for divorce, the sooner I can join Ava. You see, if Ava divorced Killian, she wouldn't get a dime. This way, she gets to keep her money, I get to keep Ava and you get to stay safe. Everyone wins." She feels sickened, it's a ploy for money. "She doesn't love Killian, why does she deserve his money? What's to stop me from leaving, then she won't get any."

Emma knows the kind of person her sister is, she's never been disillusioned by that. Ava was a brat as a child, and then later the queen bitch of their high school, highly strung and spoiled, even if she had so very little. But her dreams of grandeur had been fulfilled by Killian's pockets.

"The only reason I'm able to tell you now is because the bank transfer has already been made. 50 million from one of the off-shore accounts, Killian will never even notice it's gone. The man breeds money."

"She's pregnant," Emma mutters, and Daniel all but grins at her.

"We're aware. It's a small snag in our plan, although i'm fairly certain it's mine. From what I heard, Killian's virility died with his divorce to Milah. In any case, the situation is being dealt with. Although on your end I guess it's harder, but for all that Ava's sacrificed for you, I'm sure you can come up with some way to work out this little baby drama."

"What about Henry?" Emma whispers, recalling Regina mentioning her 5 year old. She suddenly feels pity for the little boy that she's never met. She wonders how Regina could've ever fallen in love with such an asshole.

"What about Henry? The boy needs reining in, he reads far too many fairy tales and needs a reality check. I've never really been a fan of children," the words turn her stomach and she wonders sadly if there are only a select few who have both parents loving, or even one. At least Henry has Regina. "Oh, and before you get any ideas about spilling the beans to Killian, you should know that I'm quite good friends with Neal Gold and I know he's desperate to find you. Although I don't think there will be much of you left when he's finished."

She hates being threatened, the helplessness of the situation frustrating.

If Neal finds out where she is, that endagers both Killian and Lydia, a horror she cannot bear. Emma has to admit to herself that she does care about the both of them.

"I'll keep quiet, but not for either of you two. I've never been more disappointed of Ava in my entire life, and she's done some shitty things. I thought I was the bad sister, turns out I was wrong," Emma mutters sadly, brushing aside tears as she walks around the corner and back into the building, with reluctance to face Killian and desperation to get away from Daniel.

She pulls out her phone and begins to type a text:

To: Regina Stabler-Mills.

You deserve to be happy.

Daniel doesn't deserve you.

There's someone out there for both you and Henry.

Ava x

With the text sent, Emma exhales heavily and makes her way back into the penthouse. Killian is sat in the kitchen with a glass in hand, likely rum. She feels like she needs a glass, but apparently needs to pretend like she's pregnant.

When she gets closer, Killian raises his eyes to her and then glances back at his glass, unable to look at her.

"I should've told you about Emma, but I think I'm ready to tell you the whole truth...if you'll listen."

The conflict is caught in his eyes, and she can see how expressive he is with them. It's why she easily gets lost in them. Pulling her swan necklace from her back pocket, she places it on the countertop.

He says nothing, so she decides to fill the void with her own story.

"Both me and Emma were abandoned on the side of the street when we were babies, and until we were adopted by Ingrid several years later, all we had was one another. She kept to herself a lot of the time, but was always more eager to stand up for herself. I was the cheerleader and she didn't involve herself in any form of extra curricular. We may look the same, but we're very different. Emma was my best friend for many years, but I was always more ambitious. Emma fell into situations which got her into trouble, and we slowly just drifted apart. The last I heard from her, she was living in Las Vegas as a waitress in a strip club. We'd fallen out over something stupid, and had not spoken to each other since then. She was dating a dangerous man, not that she knew it, but his father was a monster and she though he was different, so she says. She asked him to run away with her, to leave behind the horrors and escape to Tallahassee, but he was just as cruel as his father and instead had her framed for stealing a few watches," Emma stops, and glances up at Killian who's watching her intensely. "The Detective on her case said that he would waive the charges, if got up onto the stand and spoke up against Alistair Gold."

Emma caught the way Killian's shoulders tensed when she spoke the man's name, which sent chills sliding down her back. "She knew that Gold would sooner kill her than allow that to happen, so she ran to me for help. And I gave her the means to start a new life, somewhere that even I don't know."

"Gold," he mutters, face contorting as though poison had touched his tongue. "They're despicable, the lot of them. I've had more dealings with them than I can count, they're interested in the business. I stand firm, but I never cross them, I always feared endangering Lydia and you."

"Sounds as if the lass has had it tough," he mutters, and Emma feels her heart swell. "I wish you'd told me about her. I could've helped, I would've. I know what that man is like." In that moment, Emma wants to tell him everything, who she really is, what kind of person Ava truly is. But she knows she can't, if Daniel had not told her about his connection to Neal, Emma would've told Killian the truth then and let it have it's day.

"I'm sorry, Killi. I want things to be better between us, truly. Just give me one more chance, and I promise no more surprises. I do want a future with you."

He stares at her, a determined expression on his face. "No more lying, Ava," his words are stern, and she finds herself nodding her head at him. "No more lying."

"Whilst you were out, Lydia said something rather interesting." The tips of her ears grow hot, and she finds herself at a loss for words. "I know it's not something you've ever really considered, but I hoped that if it happened by accident that you'd be okay with it."

One day soon, they'll go to the hospital and she'll have to tell him that she lost the baby, and on that day, she knows his eyes will hold a malestrom of emotion.

"I need you to not tell people until we've had the first scan. There's so much risk, and I know how excited everyone is to see us have a baby, Anna said as much earlier. But things can happen." Things will happen, there's no baby in her and she doubts there will ever be. She may care for Lydia well enough, but there's little for the young girl to compare it to and she's already so strong, she'll just mess up a newborn's life. Emma won't be having a baby with Killian, or anyone else.

"Okay, well I told Liam because he's my brother. But I swear, not a word to anyone else."

"If Liam tells Elsa, and Elsa tells Anna, then everyone will know!" From their first meeting, Emma liked the girl well enough, but she could tell that secrets don't stay that way for very long with Anna around.

"Give Elsa a bit more credit, love. She won't tell Anna until we're ready for people to know," he mutters, pressing a kiss to her lips. "If you'd have told me a week ago that you were pregnant, I would have resented the timing. We haven't been in a good place you and I. But after the charity gala, and the way you are with Lydia, who you've never tried so hard with her. I don't know where this new you has come from, but I like her more." She shouldn't take happiness in it, but she does. "I'm glad you're finally being honest with me."

Emma walks into the en-suite bathroom to turn on the tub. She's never been a massive fan of bubble baths, instead taking quick showers and heading out within a matter of minutes. But Ava's lifestyle has forced her to care more about her appearance. She's never been someone loathsome of makeup, but she's always gone for a natural look opposed to being totally made up. Even now she goes for effortless chic, loving the neutral shades and peachy lipsticks.

She wraps her hair up into a bun atop her head, stripping down in the closet before wrapping the patterned mint green robe around her body whilst she waits for the bath to run. The day has been heavy, full of more problems and secrets than she cared to encountered.

Fingers loop into the collar of her robe, pulling it so that her back is exposed. A kiss is pressed to her shoulder, the gruffness of his facial hair rubbing against her flesh, another is placed to the length of her neck. Arms encircle, fingers tugging at bow she'd tied around her waist, so that the silky fabric slips down her arms and bunches at her wrists.

"Killian," she sighs. His hands caressing her skin from behind, cupping her breasts and traveling lower to rest on her belly. "I don't think I've said it in a while. I love you, Swan."

She turns around with tears in her eyes to kiss him, he's such a fool.


	5. Midnight conundrum

She walks with Lydia's hand in her own, the young girl's hair fishtail braided after Emma admitted that where she falls down in the kitchen, she makes up for it in the hair braiding department. Whilst entering the room which is bustling with activity, Emma feels the glares of many and she wonders briefly how many her sister has scorned in her brief stint on the Upper East Side.

Lydia had spent the entire week excitedly talking about her aunt and uncle returning home and how excited she was to see them. Emma couldn't understand how the two could possibly have the energy to attend a brunch, but somehow they were there in their finest, smiling at well-wishers.

Elsa rushes forward, carrying a young boy in her arms with hair the same shade of platinum as her own, Emma only recognises her from the photo Killian showed her of the other Jones family at what appeared to be some form inside amusement place, clad with slides and ball pits.

Alek is passed into her arms whilst Elsa hugs Lydia. She tries not to think about the baby in her arms too much, as she hoists him onto her hip and watches the interaction between aunt and niece. "Auntie Elsa, did you know that I'm going to be a big sister?" Lydia beams proudly, watching Emma as she bounces the baby. "Really? That's so exciting, my little snow angel."

The comment has her stomach in knots, the smile on her face lifting to detract from the pang of guilt she feels for lying. Passing Alek back to Elsa, she presses a finger to her forehead. "How're you doing Ava?" Elsa questions, offering a smile. She notices a little tension in the woman's voice, as though Ava and Elsa have never really been that close.

"Great," she mutters, wrapping an arm around her waist. Elsa steps forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I know we've never been close. But I'm here if you need me. It can all feel a little overwhelming at the beginning, and then the end. The middle is the best."

Both Elsa and Lydia finds others to talk to, whilst Emma stands by, happy to observe.

It does not take long before a glass of red is being placed in her hand by Regina, causing her to look down nervously at the vino. She wants to drink it, to drown out the awkwardness. But there's no way of drinking it without opening a can of worms. "Thanks, Regina," she mutters, holding the glass in her hand loosely.

Killian swoops over, taking the glass out of her hand and she cringes at his lack of subtlty, "Your lad's reading about the stars in corner. I've promised I'll take Henry out on the boat and show him the constellations."

"So he can drown miles away from home?" Regina questions, eyebrow quirked. There appears to be no malice to her words, and she comes to the conclusion that Killian and Regina must have a relationship fuelled by witty banter.

Killian starts drinking her wine, and it has Regina frowning. There's a flash of dark hair, and a soft gaze looking up at her, as though he can see right into her soul. "You're different," he whispers, holding out his hand to her. "Don't worry, I'll keep your secret."

"Henry, what're you whispering about?" his mother queries, bending down to press a kiss to his forehead.

"Nothing," he mutters biting his lip. "Mummy is getting a divorce. I think we'll be happier."

Emma almost gawks at him, before her expression softens. Smart kid. "You're right, kid. I think you will too."

"Hey Henry, why don't you come with me and we'll let your mummy and Auntie Ava talk." Emma had never understood why friends were made honorary aunts and uncles, until now.

"I guess if you've told Henry then things are official," Emma murmurs, sitting down on a white wooden chair. Regina settles down beside her and nods.

"With Daniel, I was blinded by love for so long. But he's a terrible person, and a terrible father. I know I'm no saint and I can't pretend that I don't have a sharpness to me, and yet even I think he's shit. I don't think Daniel has ever loved Henry, and the poor boy knows it. He's too smart for his own good sometimes."

Emma knows what it's like to be blinded by love, Neal was the ideal case to explain to Regina, if only she could unburden her secret.

"You're not the kind of woman who needs a man to survive, I know that. But, I do believe you'll find love, someone who admires how extraordinary you are, and loves Henry like his own." Emma knows where Henry gets his sharp eye from, the way Regina looks at him is unsettling.

"You're not Ava Jones," she whispers, words harsh and eyes set in fierce slits. "I've been friends with Ava since Killian introduced her, and never once has she cared about my feelings or showed any love towards children, let alone Henry. Nor has Henry ever paid the slightest bit of attention to Ava," Regina announces, and her heart is pounding heavily in her chest. Picking up her hand, Regina points to it, "Scars don't heal that well. Only a man would miss the signs."

"My husband has been sleeping with Ava for the better part of a year, and yet you seemed none the wiser. Didn't even blink. In fact, you looked genuinely concerned, which is a first. Now I have no love for Ava, but for Killan's sake I want to know where she is and why you're impersonating her. You must be a twin."

"Please, not here," she begs, urgency in her voice as she stands up to leave the room in search of a balcony. Sadly, she casts a glance towards Killian, fearful of his safety and the inevitable hatred. Regina stands, following behind Emma.

The moment they get outside, Emma is certain that she may throw up.

"She's never looked at Killian that way, not even in their first year of marriage. I swear all she wanted was his money," Regina announces, arms hanging over the side of the balcony.

"My name is Emma Swan; Ava is my twin sister. When I agreed to her twisted plan, I was so desperate and I'd forgotten exactly how manipulative she could be. Alistair Gold wants me dead, and his son is more than happy to do it himself. Talk about blinded love, he is every bit his father's son. He had me framed for stealing watches, because I said we should run away from his father and never look back. Detective Humbert said that if I give evidence against him, he'd waive my sentence. But they couldn't protect me from him, and they wouldn't allow me a quick death." She breathes deeply, head spinning. Regina shows no signs of disinterest, and Emma knows she has to keep going.

"I ran to Ava, I'm good at running. She left all traces of her identity, her rings and ID's, and a letter which told me to find safety in her life whilst she found freedom. Af first I thought of running, and then I saw how broken both Killian and Lydia were, and then I thought I'd stay for the night. But I don't want them to break under my watch, it happens too often." She swallows hard, the next bit will likely be disturbing for Regina.

"Last week, Daniel shared that he knows all about Ava's plan. That she's pregnant, but it's all being taken care of, and that I need to continue the charade otherwise he'll tell Neal where I am, because apparently they're pals. If he tells Neal, then both Killian and Lydia are also endangered. The only way now to protect them, is to pretend that I'm someone else."

"The wine…" she mutters, glancing over at her. "Killian thinks you're pregnant." Regina's paces for a while, feet clicking against the ground with each step.

"I know it's a mess," Emma admits, eyes pooling with tears. "I don't want to hurt anyone. They make me feel like I have a family, but I know that it's not real. Everyone will come back to reality, and he'll hate me. Lydia asked me for help on her art project, and I've never been able to do that for someone before."

"You're for the most part, the good twin then?" Regina questions, quirking her brow. "Ava is a bitch, she's selfish and a husband stealing whore. Let me guess, wherever Ava is, Daniel will be soon running to her?" she asks, voice full of disgust.

"I'll keep your secret, Emma. You're good for them, and I could do with a friend like you. If Killian ever finds out, or you decide to tell him, I knew nothing about it."

She's lying next to him late at night, a stray arm wrapped around her waist, holding her body close to him. She can feel his breath on her skin, and the relaxed beat of his heart. He's real, he's beside her and she doesn't want to let him go. Her fingers rest above the bed sheets, rings heavy on her skin. She's never worn something for so long, not even the swan necklace.

"I can feel you watching me, Swan," he murmurs, a smirk etched onto his lips.

She sighs contently, shuffling deeper into his embrace, "I like that." He's not calling her Ava, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

"Why?" he frowns, turning to face her. There's no light on his face, only the darkness of his, their bedroom. Emma's heart beats a little heavier, fingers reaching out towards him. His grip is harsh when he catches her hand, and it was her wincing. His free hand grabs her other wrist, and then he's pressing her into the bed.

It's not passion, it's anger. He wants to hurt her.

"How stupid do you think I am, Love?" The words are toxic in his mouth, a dark poison spoiling the quiet bliss they'd had only moments ago. His hands are climbing to wrap around her neck, clenching fiercely, lips to her ear. "You're disgusting," he growled, tightening his grip. She's gasping for air, desperate to find her breath. Her fingers grip at his own, trying to wrench away the hands that wrap cruelly around her throat. "Stop"

"Why would I do that, Emma?"

She bolts awake, head flying from the pillow, body covered in a layer of sweat. She can't stop the tears in her eyes, as her hand finds her mouth to staunch the sobs. Beside her, Killian shifts in his sleep, but never wakes.

Her phone rings several moments later, and Emma looked at that with teary eyes. The number is blocked, and it causes a frown to lift onto her features.

Hesitantly, Emma picks up the device and holds it to her ear, sliding from the bed in hopes of not distrurbing Killian. The moment she accepts the call, a frantic call is pushed from the speaker.

"Ava, don't hang up! Just listen to what I have to say," a womans voice begs, causing Emma to pay more attention, despite her fitful state.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who this is."

"Ava, I know that you don't want me in your life. I've accepted that you're never going to forgive me, you're so much like your grandmother was in her early years, which is quite apt considering your name. But please, tell me where Emma is, I have to meet her too. David and I had the blessing of finding you, we only want to meet our other daughter too?"

Her head is reeling, heart pounding uncontrollably, it's too much. Emma realises that the voice on the other end of the phone is her mother. Tears fill in her eyes, and the child in her reaches out for her mother, to whisper the words she so longed to say. For years and years, she waited for nothing. "So you can abandon her all over again?" Emma finally whispers.

Leaving the bedroom, Emma locks herself in the bathroom. "This is Emma, and I don't want to meet you," she cries, throat thick once more with sobs.

This Upper East Side was something else entirely, and Emma wondered what she'd done when she was young to attract such a proclivity for drama. All she'd ever cared for was normal, it was all that she'd ever desired.

"Ava, don't be cruel. Please," the voice begged. The side of the cupboards served as a place for Emma to rest her head, body shaking with tears.

"I'm not being cruel! Once again that I have been completely betrayed, so tell me how I'm supposed to trust you. I'm living a life that is not my own and now you're telling me that Ava has also been in contact with you. I can't trust you, how can I? Everyone just betrays my trust, time and time again."

The phone is silenced from that point, legs pressed up to her chest, cries muffled slightly against the silk of her pyjamas as her lips press against her knees. She wants to hideaway and never come out. Ava, Neal, her parents, they all hurt her.

A small knock comes at the door.

"Just a second," she responds, brushing aside the tears from her face. Her hands still shake when she turns the lock, only to be met by not one person, but two. Small arms encircle her waist, head pressed against, as the warm embrace of another wraps around the both of them, and all Emma can do is rest her head against Killian's chest.

Emma knows, they're more alike than he realises.

"We heard you crying," the younger voice says, and all Emma wants to do is stay frozen like this for the rest of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the past few chapters have been drama heavy and the Upper East Side is certainly taking it's tool on our Emma. The next chapter is going to be lighter, a nice breather.
> 
> I'm currently writing chapter seven, which too has a lighter tone...but I'll have to see how that one progresses.
> 
> I really do appreciate the feedback, and the speculation over what's going to happen next. I hope that it continues! So please, leave a review to share a thought or two :)


	6. My Mate's Boss' Mrs

The pieces of Ava's life pull together with each passing day, Emma learns more about her sister in a day than she has done in the twenty-five years they've both been alive. She came to realisation years before, that if they were not related, Emma would find little interest in the girl. But you don't choose your family and Ava was part of the very small one that she'd had growing up.

It was still unfathomable for Emma, that she was speaking to her birth mother on the phone just days ago, telling her that she never wished to meet the faceless woman. No names had been asked for, and yet she now knows that her father's name is David. It sticks to her, like a wound that won't heal. It crawls beneath her skin, begging her to show more interest.

There's no way for her to contact them, and it causes a feeling of regret to stir within. What if that was her chance and she ruined it?

No, they had their chance. At any point in her life they could have found her, and she resented them more for it. They let her down, they let both her and Ava down.

What her mother had said, caused Emma to think that Ava had been named after a grandmother. Had Emma been named after someone, or had her name simply been plucked carelessly. Her parents had cared enough to name them, and have blankets knitted with their names etched onto the fabric, and yet they'd been left on the side of the road with no love or family.

"Where is your head at, love?" Killian questions, running his fingers through her hair, whilst her body reclines back against his own. "You've been lost to me since that night when we found you crying. I don't want to pry, but I'd like to think that I'm the protector of your heart. It's my job, Swan."

She motions for him to sit beside her, arm wrapping around his own as he perches on the other kitchen stool. There were so many things she desired to unburden, but only one that she could truly share. "I was crying because my mother was on the phone. I spent so many years yearning for it, and when it came I was afraid. I told her that I didn't want to meet her." Her eyes pool with tears, which she blinks away. "I'm so tired of crying an being sad. I don't want to be sad anymore."

"Then don't be, love." He spins her stool gently so she turns to face him fully, his hands resting on her knees. "For so long, I wanted you to be as miserable as I was. My life was full of resentment, it hurt and I wanted to hurt you too," his voice is deep and dark, yet his eyes remain fixed on her own. "It takes a hold of your life, and you forget about all the good. I was so fixed on hating you, or thinking that I hated you, that I was forgetting about all the love I have for you and Lydia, my poor Lydia."

"I know you may feel like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders, but it's okay to trust people. Trust in people, trust in love. Whatever choice you make, I'll support you. You've never really talked about your family to me, and I think there's a reason for that. There's so much unfinished business, I think you owe it to yourself to get an explanation from your parents, if nothing else." Emma pulls him into a hug, resting her chin on the fabric of his suit jacket.

"Okay," she murmurs, releasing a sigh.

The chill in the air causes her to shiver, missing the softness of her jumper which she'd previously removed for being too hot. Now, the white cami is doing nothing to keep her warm.

Killian presses a kiss to her shoulder, a fire burning her cool skin, "Don't you need to get back to work?"

The days are often long and boring for Emma, she's always worked long hours with a sheen of sweat on her skin, and the stench of alcohol on her tops. And on the other days she'd been trailing the streets trying to find people, as the chick who put up the money. Envy fills her when she hears about Killian's hectic days, even if he is arguing with board members and promising to be a guest speaker at the next college graduation.

"Aye, love. I'll see you later. But please, think about what I said."

Killian leaves not long after, brushing his shoulder where she'd pressed her chin into the material. The silence is the worst, it's where her thoughts fester.

Her phone pings with a text message,

Please – M.M.

Emma ignores that, deciding that she should instead go and see Detective Humbert. As Ava, she has nothing to hide and will tell Ava's version of the truth, and not her own.

Pulling the jumper on once more, Emma also decides that although she loves Killian's cooking, all she really wants is a grilled cheese. So she ignores the tuppleware in the fridge, and instead grabs her wallet.

Grabbing her phone, Emma calls up the station "Detective Humbert, please. You can tell him that Ava Jones is calling." One second please, mam.

Emma hails a cab, sliding into the vehicle.

"What's the best diner in the city?" The drivers head turns, a small smile lifting onto his boyish features. "Granny's, but it might be a little low class for your taste," he responds, giving her a once over.

"If it does grilled cheese and onion rings, then I'm happy."

A voice finally comes through her phone, and she feels her heart beat a little faster when she hears Grahams voice. She doesn't blame him, not really. He's a good detective that's just trying to take down the bad guys, and was kinder to her than most. But he didn't realise that she would only end up dead before she could say a word against Alistair Gold and it would have all been for nothing.

"Mrs Jones," the voice is curt, and the guilt deepens within her.

"Detective Humbert, I'm heading to Granny's dinner. So if you're free and would like to talk about my sister, that is where I shall be."

Emma ends the call there, pressing fingers into the temples of her forehead. "Hey, aren't you my mate's boss's, Mrs?" the voice questions, causing Emma's brow to quirk.

"Erm, what?" The phrase is completely befuddling, whilst Emma tries to piece it all together.

"My mate just started working at that big company, Jones Enterprises. Robin's the hot shot of the group, the only one on big bucks, although I daresay he's had the most heartache too. Anyway, when he told me who he was working for, I started looking on the internet and saw a picture of his boss and yourself." Emma nods her head, mildly enthused by the chatty guy.

"Yeah, that's me," Emma responds, curling her hands together.

"Got any hot friends for my mate? He's been alone since his Mrs died a few years back. It's just him and the little lad now, I reckon he needs a woman in his life." Emma lets out a laugh, leaning forward slightly to read the drivers identification.

"Will Scarlet is it? I'll let Robin know, if I meet him, that you're desperate to set him up. I daresay that when he's ready, he'll find someone."

The driver nods slightly, before shaking his head. "Nah! He's not charming enough to meet another woman on his own." She can tell he's only jesting, that the guy in the front genuinely cares about his friend.

"And are you charming enough to meet a woman on your own?"

"Are you mad? Of course I am. I've got a Mrs at home, although she's a bit highly strung at times. Anastasia's her name, although there was a time when men called her the destroyer of hearts." Will Scarlets version of chatty is different to that of Anna's, although she finds both to be entertaining. But what amazes Emma, is Will's ability to share so much with a stranger.

"She sounds like an interesting woman," Emma remarks, pulling her phone out of her purse. The text from M.M remains on the front of her screen, along with one form Killian.

I'm seeing Eric Fisher later to go through the accounts. You're welcome to come; I know it's been a while since you've seen Ariel – Killian x

Emma quickly texts him back with a yes. The taxi comes to a halt outside the before mentioned diner, and Emma can't deny her intrigue. "I'm taking your word on this one, Will," she announces, passing over the fee as she slips out of the cab.

She looks out of place, clad in Ava's designer clothes as she enters a greasy diner, although it had always been more her speed than the rails of Gucci.

She walks over to the waitress who stands idly at the cashier, thick dark hair is piled up atop her head in a voluminous bun, whilst her body has been pushed into the smallest waitress outfit Emma has seen, with fire truck red hot pants to match.

"Can I take your order?" the girl asks, popping her bubble-gum.

"I'll have a grilled cheese with onion rings, and a drink of hot cocoa with cinnamon."

She's sat happily devouring her grilled cheese when Detective Humbert walks in, a steady look stretched onto his features. Graham strikes her as the kind of man to have a secret fondness for the woods, and perhaps a cabin where he has a Shepard Dog. She doesn't stand to shake his hand; in fact, she pretends not to recognise him at all.

"Mrs Jones." Emma looks up from her food, indifference masking her face as she narrows her eyes towards him.  
"Detective Humbert, I take it?" Emma questions, crossing one leg over the other. "Have a seat."

He sits before her, frowning slightly. "That is Emma's favourite is it not?" he asks, suspicion in his voice.

"Yes. Occasionally, our adoptive mother would take us to this diner, and both of us always had the same thing. I guess it reminds me of more peaceful times," she lied smoothly, lifting her hot chocolate to her mouth. Ava hated anything with grease, even as a child she was having salads and grilled chicken.

"I'll cut straight to the point, there's no need to ask Killian about the whereabouts of my sister, as he has had zero involvement." Emma clears her throat, leaning forward slightly. "You must understand, that despite our many years apart, I will always look out for my sister." It feels like a lie, as though the words are no foreign to her lips. There was a time when Emma would've done anything to protect Ava, even if it was from herself. But now, she could only see her as the monster that she'd become.

"Emma came to the Hamptons three weeks ago, with my instruction. You see, I think you cared more about the investigation that the safety of my sister, and I could not let that happen. So I gave her the money and the means to get away, to live somewhere else and finally be free. And before you think of accusing me of illegal action, I'd like to remind you that you admitted to my sister that she was innocent and had proof it, which you were withholding until she stood up on the stand." There's slightly bitterness to her voice as the words leave her, she knows Graham is not really a bad guy, but he didn't make anything easier in the end. She was just collateral.

"Report me, and you can be certain that I'll report you. If what my sister says is true, exposing me will not only endanger myself, but also my family and you'll have to forgive me if I don't take that risk."

There's a flash of something in Graham's eyes which she can't pinpoint, it causes panic to rise in her chest. It's hard to swallow, but she remains calm whilst facing him.

"I would've protected her," he responds with a sigh, picking up a menu. "But she didn't trust that I had her back. The night she ran away, I'd passed on the proof that Emma had been set up. We aren't looking for her anymore," he admits, his eyes searching her own. "We aren't looking for you, Emma."

"What are you playing at?" Emma snapped, pushing aside her hot drink. "You're good with words, Detective Humbert. But I am not telling you where Emma is, I don't even know myself. And also, you can't just decide that because we look the same, that I am Emma."

"It's uncanny really? But you caught me, I was just testing. I could just really do with her help," his voice is weaker, and she honestly feels for him. There are some people who Emma cannot expose herself to, and Graham is certainly one of them.

"Maybe one day she will. But for now, please leave her alone. You'll only be chasing a ghost," Emma stands up, grabbing her wallet at the same time. "Good day, Detective Humbert."

It's much later when she's walking down the streets of Manhattan, coffee in hand. Beside her, the young girl in jewel encrusted ballet flats devours the extortionately priced raspberry gelato. Emma had to hold her tongue when she saw the prices of the cold treat. It was difficult to adjust to the expensive way of living. For too long she'd barely had to coins to rub together, and now she's living with a family who have more money than they could ever spend. The billions of pounds would pass from generation to the next, although it looks set to go only to Lydia and Aleksander.

Knowing Killian, he'd leave some for Henry.

"Did you have a good day at school, kid?" Emma asks, cradling her hands around the coffee cup. Lydia nods enthusiastically. "Yes! I got an A* in my English paper. In science we're looking at the planets and stars, they didn't believe me when I said I am superb. But daddy wanted to be an astrology professor when he was younger, before Grandpa passed away. He taught me about the stars, just like he's doing with Henry now."

She feels oddly comforted by the fact that Killian too had other dreams beyond what his life was. Emma was the closest she'd ever been to living in heaven, it was beautiful and every day felt like it could be her last.

"How do you know if you're in love?" Lydia suddenly asks, causing Emma to blanch at the young girl. Her heart pounds heavily in her chest, how is she supposed to tell a 12-year-old that she's not even sure herself what love is.

Truth be told, Emma realises now that she's probably never been in love, true love.

"Honestly, kid, I don't think anyone really knows. But if someone makes you happy, it's always a good start. I think when you find the one, you'll know, as though your soul has finally been completed. I've never been much of a romantic."

"Daddy is a romantic though, all the plans he used to make. I remember when you first got married, he would try to take you to so many places. But you never wanted to go," the last bit is said with sadness, and Emma can't help but feel sorry for Killian. It's obvious to her now that Ava never loved Killian, he was just a man with a lot of money, and she loved the idea of being a socialite.

"I know, petal. I haven't always been the nicest person." She hates to speak about her sister that way, to admit what Ava truly is. Horrible, selfish, cruel.

"The way you love daddy, is that what love is supposed to be like?"

Emma opens her mouth, and then closes it once again. She can't possibly love Killian, can she? There's no denying that she cares for him, in fact, she cares for him a lot.

"The truth is; I don't think I loved him very well before. Recently, things have changed between us and I love him more than I ever did before. Love isn't supposed to be how me and your daddy were in the beginning, if wasn't fair on him. I think, Lydia, that when the time is right, you'll know what love is. But don't ever let anyone tell you that it's not real, just believe in the magic, Kid."

She wraps her arms around Emma, "I love you, Emma."

For a moment she's happy, and then her heart skips a beat. "What did you call me?"

"Ava," she responds, looking at her strangely. She nods unconvinced, certain she heard the young girl say her own name. But her mind must be playing tricks on her.

"I love you too, Lyd."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so so much for the feedback on the last chapter! It was greatly appreciated.
> 
> So I know which chapter is going to be the big reveal. It's all been plotted out and I'm so excited to share it, although we've still got a little while to go. I'll say that Killian finding out is the end of Act One, and there are three parts to this story.
> 
> I would really appreciate feedback on this chapter, as it inspires me to carry on going.
> 
> Also, I'm currently plotting out the dark and devilish Lord Killian, and the wild-hearted American debutante, which will be posted very soon...so keep your eye out for that aswell.


	7. Less than ideal

Her sleep is undisturbed for hours, body blissfully tucked beneath the covers. It's only when the door is opened, and light shines through the crack that she is roused from her slumber.

"I'm sorry I bailed," Emma pouted, pressing a hand against her forehead. After her outing with Lydia, Emma felt run-down, as though the events of the past few weeks had finally caught up with her. She'd called Killian, sadly informing him that she wouldn't be joining him at the Fishers.

"It's okay, love. Ariel asked after you, I think she'll be popping around later in the week to have one of those chin wags that you ladies have." Killian kicks off his shoes, climbing into bed beside her, still wearing his shirt and pants, although she noticed that at some point his jacket and tie must've been discarded.

"I can't blame you for being tired, you're making a baby." Right, that. It's easy for Emma to forget that she's supposed to be pregnant when nobody mentions it. The knowledge hangs over her head like a heavy weight, desperate to fall and crush her soul.

She knows she'll have to tell him that's she's not, that there was some bleeding, that she's sorry. It's a lie that Emma wishes she would never have to tell. Daniel had made Ava's intentions over her pregnancy abundantly clear.

"We haven't been out to dinner in a couple of weeks. What do you say we visit the best Italian in Manhattan tomorrow, if you're feeling up to it?" He wraps his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his embrace. She's breathing soundly against him, watching as the hairs on his arm stand with her warm breath.

"That sounds wonderful, Killi. But we're heading around to Liam's for dinner, or have you forgotten your brother?" she teases, folding her arms over his.

"I didn't forget. I was just testing you, love. I know my dashing appearance can make you forget things." She gasps indignant, craning her neck to look at him – although the angle proves too much for her to actually catch a glimpse of his features. Killian will be wearing the signature grin, the one that she can't help but fall in love with.

The truth is, she, Emma Swan, loves Killian Jones and he loves another. The pain of such a fact is enough to make her want to run away and never look back. But to leave Killian now would cause her more heartache. Sitting up, she shuffles around on the bed – albeit with little grace and moves to face him, legs locking on every side of his hips.

"I feel much better now," Emma proclaims, brushing the dark locks from his forehead, where his smooth style has fallen from its hair sprayed position.

Her head dips low, lips pressing against his own to give a feverish kiss. Emma is lost in her own fantasy, after living a life alone, she allows herself to be cherished by Killian Jones. Her skin trembles beneath his touch, hands sliding up her arms, fingers running in soft circles.

He'd last showered her with attention when she'd gone to bathe, he'd caressed her body, every part screaming for his touch. But now she's popping the buttons of his shirt, running her fingers down the toned planes of his chest. He's moderately sculpted, enough to show that he spends an hour each evening in the gym before he returns home to her.

The light dusting of hair of his chest sliders through her fingers as she creeps lower hands settling on the button of his pants, which she sits just below.

She moves her hands to settle on the sides of his face, mouth hovering inches above him, "I-," she swallows, eyes searching his. There are so many words for her to say to fill the pregnant pause, she wants to tell him all of it.

He kisses her, rolling their bodies over until she's caught between him and the bedsheets. "Let me cherish you."

The pyjamas are pulled from her body, and she's squealing when his hands brush to tickle her sides, "Killi, stop it!" He's laughing, yanking off his own clothes. The removal isn't sensual, it's hurried and desperate. She doesn't realise how much she needs him until his hands are palming her breasts. His touch is magnetic to her, every nerve in her body responds to Killian Jones.

His hands graze her thighs, dipping to feel her desire as a devilish smirk crosses his features. He moves to touch her further with his fingers, but Emma's shaking her head and twisting them, so he falls to his back and she settled above him.

"Not today," she murmurs, pressing kisses to his chest. Her hand dives between them, fingers feathering over the tip of his cock, as she moves to wrap her hand around the base. The response from Killian is pleasing, as he lets out a short grunt.

Emma raises her hips, and then lowers her body down onto his cock, her body taking all of him in. She doesn't want the foreplay, not today, she just needs to have him inside of her.

She leans forward pressing a kiss to his lips, she wants him to be hers. He feels like home, and it's the one thing she's always yearned for.

The rhythm begins slow, hips rotating, and hands gliding, she's getting used to him being inside her. Her breaths are long and drawn out, her actions calculated to hit her sweet spot. Killian's hand glides up her chest, rising higher to brush over the swollen peaks of her breasts.

His hands grasp her hips, he's sitting up and suddenly he's in control again, the pace is quicker and desperate. She needs him and he needs her. They're flesh on flesh, two lost souls drowning in the other.

"I need you to come," he murmurs, driving his hand between her legs to press against her bundle of nerves. She loves the dominant side of Killian, especially when he drives her over the edge.

Her movements are erratic, messy and she's grasping his shoulders in desperation. Her eyes water a she falls over the edge, clinging to every part of him, as he lets go of his own release. They fall backwards onto the bed, his cock slips from her and she nestles her head into the covers and prays for the cool air.

The dress she wears is blush pink and designer, the shirt dress tied loosely around her neck as it flows delicately down her long body to rest mid-thigh. Killian's arm is wrapped around hers, and she tries not to over think the current turn of events.

She stands in the doorway of Liam and Elsa's townhouse, the sounds of Aleksander screaming above in his crib as Elsa smiles at them, hurrying the two into the house. Emma admires the woman's choice of hours, it's white on the outside, and the inside is decorated in shades of silver and powder blue. It's cool but comforting, homely.

"Would you like a drink?" Elsa asks, quirking an eyebrow them. "Ava, I've got a jug of lemon ice water, or a selection juices and sodas, although I don't suggest the latter."

"Water is fine," Emma responds lightly, desperate to ask for a glass of wine, or perhaps even a little rum. Killian gives her a look, as though he knows what she really wants, and squeezes her hand gently. She doesn't understand it; she doesn't understand Killian lately.

Elsa smiles warmly, guiding them into the dining area. Liam comes down the stairs, and it's only then that Emma realises the crying has stopped. The elder Jones walks straight over to Killian and pats him on the back, "Bet you're excited for the late nights and early mornings again, brother," he jests, before pressing a kiss against her check.

"Looking as lovely as ever, Ava." There's something strained in Liam's voice, a certain level of disapproval. Emma wonders how her sister survived in Killian's world, acting as she did. It appeared that all the people she met, she turned against her.

"Thank you, Liam," she murmurs, knotting her fingers together. Emma never cared in her life, no once, about being liked. The world had never been kind to her, and she had always stood up for herself and said, no, this is who I am. But now she's glancing over at the people she's supposed to call family, and Emma wants them to like her, not Ava.

"Dinner is almost ready, we've been cooking up a storm!" Elsa announces excitedly, rushing off, likely to go and check on the food whilst they all remain in silence.

"Are you enjoying living in Manhattan again?" she asks to fill the void, throat dry, which causes the words to crack slightly. Liam raises his eyebrow to Killian, and in the blink of an eye she swears the man beside her winks at his brother.

Does that man know something? Emma's felt it for a while, but she's shaken it off. It's stupid, it's all stupid. Of course Killian doesn't know the truth, he certainly wouldn't humour her charade.

They sit around the table, and to Emma's surprise they're all laughing. It took Liam half an hour to have a proper conversation with her, and now the entire table is taking as they devour the second course of their meal. Elsa had made a broccoli and stilton, which turned out to be quite delicious.

Now they're devouring a beef wellington as Elsa declares that she couldn't leave England without taking a few recipes with her.

"Next summer, we all need to take a vacation together. Nothing with a long flight, babies get irritable," Elsa announces, instinctively looking up in the direction of Aleksander's room.

Emma smiles, it's bittersweet. She wants to join them, for it to be real, but she doesn't know how it can be. There's a fear in her of planning too many things, of hoping for something which will never come. Her life with Killian could end at any moment, and there's always the risk of Gold.

"Yeah, sounds like a great plan," Emma smiles, lifting her glass to take a hard gulp.

"So, it's two months until our little Lyd is officially a teenager," Liam begins, and Emma hides her shock beneath the rim of her glass. She doesn't know when Lydia's birthday is.

Her own 13th birthday had been alright. Herself and Ava had stood outside a jewellery shop, staring down at a necklace with a small but elegant swan in silver. Somehow, Ava had convinced her that they could put their money together and successfully share the necklace. Ava never was good at sharing.

The night wears on, and Emma finds with every passing second that she's growing more weary, tiredness taking over her. She hadn't been sleeping well, and all her dreams were of Ava or Neal.

Her head pounds cruelly, and she internally hopes that they'll leave soon, she can't bare the bright chandeliers or the sound of laughter, no matter how jovial it had made her feel earlier.

She wakes up worse than she fell asleep. Her stomach is in knots, and despite the warmth which radiates around her, Killian is nowhere in sight. Her stomach quivers, a queasiness following her, as she hears the sound of another retching. Her head lifts from the bed, and that only makes matters worse as the world spins around her.

Emma exhales heavily, dragging her body out of the bed. She wills herself not to be sick, as the soothing sounds of Killian comforting his daughter fill her ears. So Lydia is unwell?

She thinks it's a pity that such a lovely evening with Liam and Elsa, filled with the fine cooking of elder Jones, has turned sour. It's the thought of the rich food which has her rushing into the en-suite, emptying the contents of her stomach.

Emma has always had a fear of illness, ever since Ingrid. The thought of being sick causes Emma to start crying, and she'll sit beside the toilet in tears.

That's how Killian finds her, tears dried in the corner of her eyes as her head rests lazily against the rim of the seat, stomach still churning. "I lied," Emma murmurs when Killian presses a cool hand to her forehead.

"You can't stay here all night, love," he responds, crouching down to her level. "If you aren't going to be sick right now, then I need you to get into bed." Emma makes no attempt to move, she just stays dormant bedside the toilet seat, tears welling in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Killian," she whispers, raising her head slightly. "You shouldn't be so concerned. I'm not who you think I am." He shakes his head, moving to scoop her from the floor.

"Don't worry, love. I know exactly who you are." If only Killian did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter would not write, for some reason I was stuck staring at it for days. In any case, it’s out but it’s certainly not my best. But the drama is resurfacing again and the next few chapters are certainly a whirlwind.


	8. Chapter 8

Her third month living with Killian and Lydia goes off without a hitch, aside from the sickness, but she blames that on the stress and the bug that the entire Jones family was taken down by. In the weeks past, she goes to Lydia's ballet recitals and shares romantic meals with Killian. All the while, she desperately tries to convince herself, to no avail, that falling for Killian will only make the situation worse, that loving him as she now does is foolish. After their evening with the Jones, Killian started acting strangely around her, as though something in him had changed. It wasn't a highly noticeable difference, but the way he glanced at her, it was as if he was seeing the real her, not the falsified version.

They've felt normal for so long; Emma almost fell for their version of reality. In her heart, she knew that if there were such things as soulmate, Killian was it for her. So it was a horrible twist of fate which had seen her sister marry him, and she'd been forced to live in her footsteps for the monster that was Ava Jones. Emma wanted him to say her name when they made love, to know that she was the one who made him happy and not Ava. But not under these circumstances.

"How do I even know the baby is mine?" his voice is cold, anger raging in Killian's eyes. "This was by far your cruellest game. You made me fall in love with you, more than I ever did before. And then this, I can't forgive you for having an affair! This marriage is a farce."

Emma swallows deeply, eyes clenched shut as she presses a hand to her stomach, "I never had an affair with Daniel."

Killian scoffs, walking forward to wave his phone in her face. "I've seen the pictures, Ava. Or have you forgotten?"

She thinks of Neal, the threat to both Killian and Lydia, but they're endangered either way now. "We haven't been married for years you and I, we only met three months ago. I was different, I know you felt it. Deep down, you've always know, I know it. This is real, you and me are the most real thing that I've ever felt in my entire life."

"What are you talking about?"

She walks forward to press a hand to his features, "Your wife, Ava, that's not me. It's never been me, and it's killed me all this time. The past three months have been a lie, and all I wanted was for it to be real."

She knows he won't say the words, he won't believe them. "Ava is living somewhere that I do not know, with Daniel. Meanwhile, to protect me, or so she said at the time, I was supposed to take her place here. I was going to tell you the night you found out that I existed, but Daniel threatened me, said he'd tell the Gold's where I was and then we'd all be in danger. I couldn't risk you and Lydia."

Her hands clench the fabric of her dress, tears streaming down her features, "I love you Killian and all I ever wanted was for you to call me Emma."

"I do love you. I thought I knew what love was, but these past three months have been the greatest moments of my life. You bonding with Lydia, loving me, being genuinely interested. There were no games, no lies, and all along I've been fooled once again. I love you, Emma. But I can't forgive you." The pang is deep in her heart; she knows what it's like to have trust broken constantly.

"I know," she whispers, eyes full of both sadness and love. "I'm grateful for every moment that I was loved by you. But now, you and Lydia need to go because Ava will already know what's happened here."

Killian nodded his head, giving her a saddened look, "Run, Emma, and don't look back."

Lydia, who'd been listening from outside the door, rushed around, head shaking manically. "Daddy, she can't leave," she begged, fingers reaching out to grab Emma's arm. "I hated Ava, she was horrible and laughed when mother was cruel. I love Emma, she's my mom."

Emma bent down, eyes meeting Lydia's. "I love you, Kid. I wish things could have stayed as they were, but I've been lying for too long now. Your daddy will take good care of you."

Lydia frowns, not letting go of Emma's arm, "Have both of you lost your minds? You love each other. You can't go, Emma. If you leave, I'll run away too."

"I'm sure we'll meet again, kid. But don't run away from your daddy, he's already been hurt too much." Emma kisses Lydia's head, and walks away from the bedroom, only to hear the young girl shout, "Daddy, say something!"

She's pulled back, a forehead pressed against her own. "There isn't a day I won't think of you."

"Good," she whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

When she wakes it's not with a start, but with tears in her eyes. Emma realises that the entire thing was a dream which had felt all too real. How could the outcome be anything different? Perhaps Killian would shout more, perhaps he wouldn't admit to loving her. But in the end, she would be without him.

Now, they're dressing for an event which even Lydia is allowed to attend. The Annual fundraiser hosted by Jones Enterprises for the Orphaned and at risk children of New York, is said to be a grandeur event than the smaller one she'd attended two months prior. It occurred to Emma, just how much Killian gave a damn. If only there had been someone like him to look out for her when she was a child.

For a change, she straightens her hair, blonde locks matching the sleekness of her white dress. The front is straight across her breasts, revealing just a slight swell beneath the expensive fabric, it's low at the back with a sleek slit in the side to expose her toned legs. The accessories are silver and bold in appearance, from the thick cuff on her arm to the earrings which drop in a link of chains to the small tear shaped stone.

Killian enters, wrapping his arms around her.

"It's a fine dress you've got on. In fact, you look ravishing," he breathes into her ear.

When Lydia enters, Emma gasps and leaps from Killian's arms, rushing over to her, "Lydia don't you look a picture!" The girl is a week away from turning thirteen and Emma can hardly believe it. In the short time that she's known Lydia, Emma has found her to be wise beyond her years.

"Do you think Flynn will be there?" Lydia whispers, a small sparkle in her eye. Emma smiles fondly, heart swelling with the memory of her perched on the end of Lydia's bed, listening as the twelve-year-old talks about the boy she likes.

"I think so, kid. But don't worry yourself too much, don't be anyone but your lovely self." Killian is stood back watching them, although Emma knows that he hasn't grasped the conversation. She thinks Killian will be very entertained when Henry grows up and starts having crushes, him he'll tease whilst Regina will likely question the poor boy. But his little Lydia, the very pearl of his world, the finest treasure in his chest, no he would skin Flynn alive if he knew.

"What are you two conspiring about?" he questions, raising an eyebrow. The signature Killian Jones look which Emma imagines once had the women swooning.

"Nothing, love," she teases, moving away from the young girl to pat Killian on the shoulder. Lydia clears her throat, bringing Emma's attention back to her.

Can you braid the front of my hair into a headband?" she asks, and suddenly Emma is motioning for her to sit at the vanity whilst Killian throws up his eyes muttering something about time.

"Fishtail, French or dutch?" she queries, running her fingers through Lydia's curled hair. Hours before, a stylist had come round to do both Lydia and Emma's hair, whilst she'd requested smooth and sleek, the younger girl had gone for loose romantic waves, but had forgotten to ask for a braid, Emma thought it might have been on purpose.

If Emma isn't helping Lydia with her homework, or braiding her hair, then Lydia is trying to teach her how to successfully make a batch of cupcakes. Each time she's attempted the mission solo, it's ended in disaster…the worst was the time she had the oven on the grill setting instead of baking.

"Fishtail," Lydia responds, and Emma sets her hands into fishtailing the bang section of Lydia's hair until Killian is looking at her and then tapping his watch.

It's such a mother-daughter moment, one that neither thought would ever happen. Emma thinks sadly about the upcoming inevitability of breaking Killian's heart. She hasn't mentioned the pregnancy, and surprisingly neither has he. The only one who does is Elsa, and Killian is quick to divert the conversation away. His excitement has disappeared, and Emma wonders if he already knows.

The week before, to Emma's delight, August had finally shown his face in Manhattan. He said he couldn't stay for too long, that he needed to watch Neal with the eye of a hawk. But it she'd happily embraced him, unburdened all of her secrets to the man she fondly thought of as brother, and wished him farewell as he returned to Las Vegas.

"Right are my girls ready to go?" Killian asks, and Emma's heart all but melts. Marriage with Killian, false as it is, feels natural. Emma thinks it would have been a glorious thing to fall in love, get the proposal, the wedding and the honeymoon, to celebrate the love as it should be and not as it is.

She wonders about Ava, where is she? It must be somewhere that Ava had always hoped to go, but there were plenty of places that her twin had once wrote down on a list. Now that Regina's divorce is now public knowledge, and Daniel has dropped off the face of the earth, readily signing the divorce papers, Emma knows that they must be together, somewhere. The thought makes her sick, she'd helped to enable their treachery.

Emma is no less overwhelmed than the last time she attended a big event with Killian, which was only two weeks prior. She wants to grasp the glass of champagne, but knows she can't. Hell, she'd give anything for a cold beer and a burger, proper diner food.

Killian had worked wonders only two days ago when she'd longed for grilled cheese and onion rings and then later on that day it had been placed at the table for her. Apparently even sophisticated Upper East Siders can enjoy the occasional greasy food.

"What is she doing here?" Emma questions, narrowing her eyes towards the woman who walks forward, a false smile painting the woman's botox'd features. Instinctively, her hand falls to lock into place with Lydia, who takes a step back to shield part of her face behind Emma's arms. How horrid, she thinks sadly. Her grip is firm, but supportive and she will certainly not leave Lydia alone.

Her other hand holds the glass of water steadily, although she's desperate to throw it over the bitch and watch her burn. "Milah, I didn't think you'd be here. Seems too charitable for you."

"Image is everything, darling," the woman announced, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Milah has styled herself in a gown of scarlet red, a generous plunge gracing her neckline, a statement from the woman to say 'I've still got it".

"And you're just starting to care about your image?" Emma asks rhetorically, eyes set in harsh lines as she gazes over at Killian's ex-wife. She doesn't know enough about Milah to judge her on a personal level, although Lydia has told her stories, and that's enough for her.

"Lydia, I almost didn't see you there. Come out and give you're a mother a hug," Milah urges, the fake smile getting progressively wider as she takes a step forward. Lydia makes no attempt to move, and at no point does Emma let go of the girl's hand. "She's not an accessory to use every time you want to look good in a picture," Emma growls, the hand not grasped in Lydia's begins to furiously clench the glass in anger, she loathes this woman.

"No amount of lipgloss can make you look any less of a boy, Lydia. That colour is awful, who picked out that dress for you? Was it Ava?"

"That's enough, Milah. You're not wanted here." Her eyes are flaming with rage, and suddenly glass is being removed from her hand.

"Any tighter and you may smash the thing, love," Killian announces, making his presence known. Emma had not wanted to make a scene, in fact she's happy to see that everyone else in the room has found their own conversations.

They stand, a united force and then a sinister smile creeps onto Milah's features.

"Poor Killian, will any of your wives ever truly love you? She's got you fooled, poor poor boy. Do you notice your bed is cold at night when she sneaks off to be with Daniel Stabler? How long is it now, Ava, two years?" Milah's voice is full of amusement. Annoyance stretches across Emma's face and then realisation, this is her fall down…right here.

"Killian," she begins, the blood in her face draining. Lydia frowns but doesn't let go,

Killian grits his teeth, eyes clenching momentarily before he turns on the balls of his feet, swiftly grabbing Lydia's hand to pull her away from the situation.

"You can't stand anyone else being happy can you?" Emma spits, her hand flies up to connect with the woman's cheek. "You deserve that slap, you hateful cow."

Gasps fill the air, but the socialites love the drama and Killian Jones's current wife slapping his ex is far too exciting for them. She's not embarrassed by the attention; she's grown a thicker skin than that.

Emma goes in search for Killian, but to no avail.

She doesn't want to ruin the night any more, this is for charity and the children of New York deserve it. So she leaves, throat thick and threatening, she wants to sob, to scream at him. He should've loved her from the very beginning, he should have met her and not Ava. It shouldn't be like this!

The driver takes her back to penthouse, although many things now sit in boxes. Regina's work on the new place is complete, and they are supposed to be moving there in three days. She nods to the doorman, although she knows this will be her last night there, maybe she won't even stay the night.

The wait is agonising, but eventually she hears the sounds two pairs of footsteps, Lydia's and Killian's making their way through the house. Emma has changed out of her dress and into the comfiest jeans she can find and throws on a cosy jumper for good measure, but now she feels inadequate when Killian walks in still wearing his designer suit. He's always been more refined than her, she'd shown her rough edges when she raised her hand to Milah.

He looks at her, arms crossed over his chest. She can't stand the silence.

"Please talk to me," she begs, standing up from where she'd sat on the end of their bed.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Swan."

"I never slept with Daniel," Emma exclaimed, tears falling from her eyes rapidly. "I wouldn't cheat on you. I wouldn't do that," she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself. She'd learnt as a child that the only way to comfort was to hug her body, because no one would do it for her. It took her many years to trust that Ingrid would be there when she needed hugs, and that trust died with Ingrid.

He opens his mouth to speak, and then closes it once more. "I would never want to hurt you Killian, and I'm tormented by the lies I've told to you."

"All I wanted was your honesty, Swan!" he exclaimed, turning his back to her. Her hand instinctively reaches out, fingers clutching the seams of his jacked.

"Killian, please-" she begins, and then he turns, a smirk lifting onto his features.

"I also just wanted to give you the time to tell me, Emma."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had zero patience when it came to uploading this chapter. The moment 7 was up, I knew this one needed to be posted awell.   
> As most have you have been guessing along the way, Killian is not stupid. Ava is pretty much the exact opposite of Emma, which you'll see in the next chapter! Ava/Killian flashback
> 
> Chapter 9 will be with you mid-week, so throw me your feedback because I do love it!


	9. War of Hearts

Tears fall bitterly, irritating the skin beneath as she gazes over at Killian sadly, "I'm sorry, Killian. I never wanted to lie to you."

He kneels before her, eyes falling on her fingers, his own moving to pull off the rings which trap her own. She's gasping for breath, trying not to drown in her own tears. She can't admit how strange it feels, she's grown accustomed to having them there, and she's dreamt many nights of Killian as her husband.

They're dropped to the floor, platinum bouncing and diamonds crashing. Emma can't look at him, Killian has so many treasures but the greatest thing he'd surely captured was her heart, and now he must crush it.

"Look at me," he asks, and Emma finds herself surprised by the softness. "You're worth more than that, Emma Swan. You're worth more than those rings. I've known for some time, about it all. I was angry Swan, really angry, and then I realised that in all the time I'd been married to Ava, never once did I smile or love the way I have with you. I didn't love, Ava…not really. I was sad that my relationship with Milah had broken down, and I was played for a fool by your sister."

There's cold metal sliding against her finger, and her eye is falling down towards it. "Even Lydia knows who you really are. We heard you, on the phone to your mother. That night, after we'd put you to bed, Lydia asked about Emma Swan, and I told her as much as I knew, sparing her some of the darker details. We love you for who you are, we just wanted you to be honest with us."

"I don't understand," Emma mutters, her head spinning. "You're supposed to hate me, to throw me out. You're not supposed to be okay with this," she cries, unable to staunch the flow of tears.

"I could never hate you, Swan. I'm angry, but that has lessened the more I've come to think about your situation. You've told me who you are countless times, and before that I knew the truth. I didn't need you to say it out loud for me to know who you are. I was married to Ava for 5 years and in that time, never once did she act as you have acted…maybe for the first week whilst she sunk her claws in. I was blinded by the idea of Ava, but the truth is she's selfish and heartless…and a thief. Oh yes, my little Lydia has always likened me to Captain Hook, and we all know a pirate watches his treasure."

She sits on the edge of the bed, hands shaking as she buries her face into them, "The longer you've lived here, the worst your sleep patterns have gotten. The first time you told me you were Emma, you muttering things about Ava, and then you started talking about Neal…the things you said, I couldn't unhear. All that he's done to you is locked up in that head of yours, and I think the more you fell in love the more you had to lose, and when you weren't crying in your sleep you were beginning me to forgive me. The only conscious time I heard you was when you were on the phone to your mother."

It's too much, she swears she may be sick from all the information. She rocks backwards and forwards, unable to look Killian in the eye. "When I went to see Eric Fisher to go through the accounts, I noticed that a sum of money had been taken from one of the accounts and put into another offshore account not under my control. That bitch certainly underestimates me," Killian growls, he begins to pace the room.

"At first I wanted to confront you, to demand answers. But after what you told me about Neal and his father, I realised that you're someone whose been treated unfairly and who was I to tear that down once again when you'd only shown me love. If I thought for one split second that you were faking any of your feelings, even the slightest, right down to your interest in Henry, you would've been gone. But your eyes are so expressive," he begins, cupping her chin to bring her eyes once again onto him. "They tell me all I need to know. Emma Swan, you have so many walls, don't put them back up now just because I know the truth."

"Everyone leaves me, in some way or another, why aren't you doing the same?" she asks weakly. Killian runs his hands over her hair, combing his fingers through her straitened locks.

"Because I'm afraid that if I let you go now, I'm losing my happy ending. The only thing I wish is that I'd met you first," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "If you want to run away, I can't stop you. But you can put your faith in me,"

Emma glances down at the ring on her finger, the one he bought just for her. It scares her because suddenly it's real, it's really real and she's never had real before.

"When this is all over we can get back to having a future you and I. But first we need to take care of a few people, I can't have you hiding away for the rest of your life whilst the monsters run free."

"Killian I -" she begins, but he shakes his head at her. Emma stops speaking, fingers clenching the material beneath her. Her crumbling point is near; she can feel it.

"Firstly, we need to tell Detective Humbert the truth…all of it. Daniel is not the only one who knows the Gold's. My horrendous ex-wife was married before, to Alistair Gold."

Emma stands, stomach churning, "I need some air," she mutters, tears threatening to fall as she leaves the bedroom. Her hand presses to her forehead willing the nausea to pass. It's too much for one person to handle, her life has always been too much.

She doesn't trust Killian to stay, to be there. Her first instinct is to recoil, to hide the rest of herself and not let him know every piece of her soul. Everyone plays games, they live they die and all around her people fade away. Emma Swan has never had a successful relationship in her life, be it romantic or familiar. She's lost everyone and everything.

The air is cool which she's thankful for. Her feet don't stop moving, the direction of her travels unknown even to her.

She has nothing on her, no phone or money, not even

A woman approaches her, staring at her strangely. Emma looks down at her sweater making sure she'd gone nothing on it, before touching her face. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she questions, winding her fingers together. The brunette smiles softly edging herself forward.

"I'm your mother." The breath is pulled from her chest, around her the world spins the wrong way and all she sees is darkness.

"Where is she?" the voice booms, eyes wild with rage. He's sat, legs crossed at the knees, fingers knotted in a girl's hair who'd previously been trailing kisses up his chest, before they'd been interrupted by the most unfortunate news. "For god sakes man, answer me! Where is the bitch?" He stands, pushing the girl to the side as he moves across the stretch of the room and takes the man by the collar.

"What am I paying you for anyway?" The man before him straightens, he's not afraid…fool.

"To get information on Emma Swan."

"Yes, that's right, Felix. And you have given me nothing! Has my pathetic cousin found anything either, or is he too scrambling in the dirt and finding utter crap?"

The way Felix smiles would make many toes curl in fear, fairs climbing to a stand. He removes the hand from his collar with force, before beginning to encircle him, "Your money is not waisted, Neal. We may not have found Emma, but we do have information on a couple who can lead us to her: Killian and Ava Jones."

The blood drains from Neal's face, shock momentarily paralysing him. He stands, fingers caught at his sides, "Killian Jones?" he whispers, recalling the man who made the Gold family boil with rage. He casts a stray thought towards his mother, the bitch who called in extremely infrequently.

Neal had never forgiven the bitch for leaving him, for marrying Killian, for having another child. He sits back down, picking up a knife which had sat on a plate of cheese, crackers and grapes.

The hatred burns deep within him, when he thinks of Emma Swan. She's the fire in his body, the only one he truly desires and yet there is also a part of him that would love to see her lifeless body before him. His father had managed to break down Belle's strong will, blinded her with love, gave her a room full of books and a baby to love, it had been enough for her to admit that she secretly loved the darkness in him.

He was going to get her out of jail, eventually. He just needed to teach her a lesson.

The intel he'd received from inside the detective's office was that Emma was supplying information in return for her freedom, and that was when his decision to try and turn her into a pliable woman to stand by his side and suck his cock when needed, changed into a need to see her beg for mercy when he tortured her to death.

"I think it's time I pay Killian Jones and his wife a visit, don't you think?" he asks, darkness lacing every tone of his voice.

"There's one more thing," Felix begins, walking forward to close the gap between the two of them. "Ava Jones is Emma's twin sister."

Amusement glints in Neal's eyes, ring finger tapping the knife methodically, "Well, things are about to get really interesting. Round up the boys, Felix. We're going to New York."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed my pretties! I know it's been a while, but I've been working on releasing another story. The next chapter will be much longer I promise. 
> 
> Until next week, enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first chapter of many. I hope that you enjoy it! It's certainly going to be a rollercoaster, and you'll see whose really good and bad in this story.


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